Tag Archives: rambling

Covid

Go on off with you now

You mutating feck

Go on back to where

You came from

Some dark place

Where nightmares

Cast shadows over dreams

We’ve had enough of you now

You malignant wee shagger

Don’t you know if you kill

The host then you’re left with

No toast to nibble upon

So off you trot

With your dodgy spikes

And your quaire auld shape

You have upon you

Away up out of the garden

And mind your own business

Go on

Go on

Go on

Go on

Go on

And don’t be coming back

Of with you know

Sheila bring out the shotgun

For the shooting of the covid

Have you been drinking frankie

Nothing much talking about biddy

Go on to bed frankie and leave the gun

Down and stop scaring the neighbours

Rightio there Margo

Sweet Jesus frankie

Can you not remember me name

Of course I can marie

Get in there out of the cold

And you naked and making

The neighbours feel inadequate

I’m hunting the covid

Get in or the covid will be the least

Of your problems

Right so Tanya

no more

No more I’ll go a roaming

Through the silent rivers where

The crocodiles sing the blues

To a man born of slaughters love

Whose blood never coloured

the blush of a maidens cheek

Upon a river bank she owned

With her smile shadowed by

The distant rainbow scream

Of a cloud born of a womb

Coloured grey in amber flames

No more will the soft of her skin

Touch the jamboree of piano

Accordion strings spread wide

To return from worlds where

Memories he recalls of adventures

In crystal clear monotones

Which he knows never existed

Beyond the shattered lines of chaos

Roaming in parallel triangular

Opium shaded brick roads

Stretching deep within to find

The girl with the off centred eye

With a tale to relate of crime

Designed to spin the crumbled

Side of a golden dollar bill

As it spins further away

From where his heart belongs

Frank McGivney

A seat

The bench, old and worn, was cold to the touch through the wool of my trousers

Hi

I could see a line of grime etched into the lines beneath her face as she looked up from her can and threw the shortest of dirty looks expertly mingled with a sound mixture of disinterested distain

Sometimes no doesn’t have to be put Into words or perhaps a look is the strongest no

Still and all it’s not a bad day all things considered

The look again this time I noticed a bunch of her hair stuck together with blood or sweat or vomit or whatever sticks hair together when a member of the human fraternity doesn’t get to avail of the washing facilities of a day or even a month

You can go fuck of if you think you getting something out of me I’m no hooker

I’m no punter either

Good cos I’m particular about who I be having the fun with

Me too

Yeah right

Yeah right exactly

Don’t be getting fucking smart you fucker

I just saying I not into hookers

You should be

Ah here

Well the state of you with the head on you and that Gammy eye and you look like your mother picked out the clothes. Is that wool?

Feck sake you’re worst than a commentator on one of them shows

What shows

You know the xfactor bollixology

Here listen don’t be using that kind of language in front of a Lady

Fair enough

And a slow breeze trailed across our path while we both looked on at the city passing by. a quietness in the kaleidoscope of hustle

You know no one talks as they walk

I looked up and listened and watched

Your man over there is talking on his phone

I thought I told you not to be a wise fucker

You only mentioned being a smart one

Whatever. He is on a phone that don’t count

Why not

It just doesn’t

Why

Cos it’s like the mad cunts who talk to themselves it’s not real talking it’s just pretend chitter chatter

I see what you mean

About the phone

No about them not talking they just are all rushing

Yeah

Yeah

Have you a light

Have you a fag

Yeah

Right then

And I saw her eyes were brown when she held the flame

She would have been a beautiful daughter to some Da a long time ago

She held the smoke deep inside, feeling it’s warmth before slowly releasing it back into the world

I better make a move

She nodded and looked back down

I touched her shoulder gently when i stood, the briefest of contacts; she didn’t react, maybe she hadn’t noticed

I walked on with out a word been uttered to a soul, a member once more of the rushing throngs

(C) frankie mcgivney

Just a random story of top of my head I hope it reads okay. The words I love to write

Happy

It’s not that their sad

Or want to be

It’s just they’re not happy

They’re not unhappy either

Is it the worst state to be

Neither one or the other

Is there no feelings where they lay

Not smiling or crying

With no jokes to make her cringe

Or no sad tale to make them sorry

they were foolish enough to have

enquired of your state of pleasure

A monotonous line where memory

Is safe and you don’t howl at the moon

Where frustration screams to be heard

And orgasms come and go without

A growl or a a roar

In the morning the reflection reminds

Me to smile to take the crooked eye

As a reminder of who I am and smile

With gratitude for looking as different

As the words inside veer from the mean

To embrace the sing song of the dreams

I hear echoing from sky to river in my

Mind searching for a page to be born

I can’t remember some things but my

Soul remember a touch an embrace

A warmth a love a joy a body

Eyes and scars smooth skin soft hair

The sound of her breath

The smell of her soul

The scream of her pleasure

The ripple of her ecstasy

Her eyes on me from afar

And I look into my eyes and I say

Today frankie is a day when

You will sing a song

And tell a tale

When laughter will be shared

And you will feel alive

And I prefer to feel enough

To forget and to cry and to

Laugh and to roar and howl

And read and write and sing

To notice the orange of a sky

And the fresh breeze of a midnight sky

To hear the heart beat of being me

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Broken thoughts

There’s a picture of a man

They believed to follow

His cross dug deep

In their mindless

Faith and she looks

To change my thoughts

While the roses fade to ice

Melting my heart broken

Resting in the decay

Molten leaves rot

In the sun

And she sings

And she prays

And she cries

Out why

Why does the song

Skip the line

Between the path

And the roar

And broken my mind

Bears the crime

There’s a picture

Of a cross where nails

Split the scene

Of what I believe

The folly of love

Thrown upon the flames

Where the temple tore

Down the steeples

Sting of life’s repose

And I cry

And I die

And I fly

Wondering where

The lyrics found

The line to draw

(Draft of random words)

Rambling spain

A line of ants passed me by unheeded by my presence as the sweat from my brow dripped upon their never ending toil. I however stood bent over fascinated at their maneuvers. My curiosity sated i passed on by along the deserted dust path with nothing but nick cave in my ear and the constant flutter of the hares darting in to multicolored half barren bushes as i approach. The smell of orange lingers on the air and i wonder are they hares or rabbits. Perhaps a bit of both. Crossbreeding and both species side by side. And i stroll on. The girl in the too tight leggings says hola. I find it hard to know where to look for her top is made for someone less fond of food as well. The auld lads all think im spanish i think. They give me the auld fella nods and the beunz diaz and i return the favour. Nick is hammering on about the big red hand and in the cool of the tunnel i feel shade and read the graffiti in illegible fluorescent shades of pink and blue and greens and i walk on somewhat more educated. The dog in need of anger management classes growls from behind an iron fence, his chain restricting him enough to put the hibbey gibbeys in me as to why he needs a chaining as well as a fencing. I tend towards the other half of the path while the tshirt is drowned in my hand and the heat on my skin reminds me of my bloodline which originated in this land where i feel so much at home. I bear their colour and their ease of pace and inside a fury made beautiful by its self containment within the bounds of self contentment.

I should have brought water but i feel strong. I have the goat in me to keep going, the mountain goat blood of my mothers side, the lack of equilibrium in my mental disposition acquried from the same source. The words and love of same dropped directly from the branches of my fathers orchard.

The point I’m aiming for is farther than it appears but it wont defeat me. The man with the moped tied with two dogs in need of walking passes me by and i smile. He raise his hand in salute and i do the same reflected in the mirror of his overladen motorised biwheel vehicle. A model long gone out of production yet still it plods along uncaring of its generational positioning.

I touch the wall and stop. Wild trees and a vslley to a near dry river. A long distance from the supposed catch of the so called fishing village yet still its holds the beauty of its functional claim. The trees bend with the multicolored flowered bushes to form the magnificane of this piece of the world where the ink traces the paper of the note book which was selected for me by the small hands i have held since her and his birth.

I smile and turn to return to the world beyond the wild of this moment

(C) frankie mcgivney in spain

Rambling

And i dont remember things

I once tried to forget

Words are lost and thoughts

Float away and

The battle is inside

My mind

To remember to fight

To reply to my own

Questions

With answers i cant recall

And i walk

So far so long so why

Not when theres no longer

The war to delve withen

The places where memories

Were of no use

For noone asks your name

When the sword is drawn

And blood is spilled

Not theirs but mine

And i regret not using

The strength and letting

Them win

Not for mine

But for theirs

And the whipping cut to

The bone where it smiled

And my heart sang

And cliche here and

Cliche there

I see the flower upon the wall

And wonder where the roots

Drink the dew from withen

The stone

Which reminds me of my heart

The passion lost the concrete set

I will not break

I will not falter

I will lose

Once more

But have i ever lost

You have to be

A part

For someone to.be tbe two

A battle on you own

Is no more than a farce

For you to bemoan

The self pity feeds upon

The whore of a dream

You build around

The lonely moon

Up where you stare

Beneath the stars

Whose twinkle caught

The eye not turning

towards the sun

Which burns a hole

Where your mind forgots

To breathe

The calming breath

To remind me

Of the lake side

Shore of daffodils

Sweetening the air

Along the banks

where the dragonfly

Grows

To.be continued

To be restored

(C) frankie mcgivney

Morphine

They got me on milk and alcohol

Well morphine which is kind of pleasant

If not something I’d indulge in too often

If at all

I like my mind the same as i like

Waterfalls

Crystal clear

Fast flow cascading

Into dragonfly filled

Kaleidoscopes of calm

Lake

Water filled with dreams and

Ideas

Thoughts

but 3 operations in one on a shoulder

Leaves you

Sore

Stoned

Nauseated

Happy

On recovery trail

Fighting and writing over

Now its writing and everything

Swimming

Writing

Reading

Walking

Pilates

Lego

Puzzles

Dreams

Watching kids grow

Colouring

One finger typing

The path robert frost pointed to

I want to explore

Eyes wide

Heart open.

Mind sponge_like to absorb

But more to think beyond

Its hard to type in pain

But its harder not to write

The keyboard is a bit high

I not allowed

Drink alcohol ( is whiskey really included its surely not)

Fight well spar but i dont mind. I excited about other projects

Disco dance ( i could shuffle)

Use my left arm at all. ( interesting being one armed)

I can

Sleep

Recover

Drink water but not whiskey did i mention bushmills are not happy

One hand type

Walk a bit, not too far frankie or you fall or get dizzy more like in opposite order dizzy then fall

Talk not too much cos i get dizzy but i talk alot now

Feck this is sore.

I met loads of new people friday in hospital and they were kind and nice and laughed and talked.

Im ramblimg now

Which is okay

Everyone should read Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

Everyone should just read

Humanity is split in two

Readers

Or

Non readers

You dont need david Attenborough to identify either variety.

Have to stop finger is tired

Eyes wrecked

Mind altered

Memory not the mae west

If i forget someone

I can make a list

Check it twice

See whos

Naughty

Who’s

nice

(As hostess says put on your own mask first, same is true for the application of the touch of kindness to oneself, cant believe i used the word oneself , am i

Now

Proper

Posh

Refined

Civilised

Mmmmm god forbid)

Shoulder pulsing waves to remind me its there

Smile still smiling

Birds are whistling outside

Time sleep

Good night or day

(C) frankie mcgivney

Age

In the beginning there was a birth and from it came the next day. On that days cells split and growth occurred. It never stops it just goes on in the most wonderful way until the time when the heart stops its beat and the brain ends its dreams. All along we listen and see and feel the world around us and the space within. Our bodies and minds growing, adding each minute to all we have accumulated before. Learning from the past as well as the present so that the future holds a greater mind and intelligence than the day just past.

Ageing mean nothing then, if every minute is building and growing beyond what we imagined when we were young. Old age is a fallacy born of a society that has lost its grasp on the true wonder of knowledge that comes from life’s years and experiences alone.